Battle Earth VIII (Book 8)

by Nick S. Thomas

  "They've done it, built my idea."

  Taylor looked down to see a typical Reitech rifle on a table. It appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary.

  "Does it work?"

  "Initial tests have been positive. We do not have any operational combat drones, so we use video surveillance models instead. The results should be near identical. Would you like to do the honours, Colonel? " Reiter answered.

  "What do I do?"

  "That rifle you see there is exactly as it would appear. Initially, we developed a concept weapon from the revolving launchers used in the first war, but we are well aware the carrying of additional weaponry is not ideal simply to deal with a particular target. So we redesigned the projectile so that it could be used in the current Reitech rifle. This reduces the spread of the weapon slightly, due to the calibre of the weapon, but I think you will find the results quite pleasing."

  Reiter flipped open a box lying on the table. It was full of ammunition and the rounds like nothing he had seen before. The same length and diameter he was used to, but with dozens of small steel rods around the diameter of the head of the round, and initially appeared to be hollow in the centre. He pushed his finger into the hollow area, and it was actually filled with a super fine grade steel mesh.

  "The metal tips disperse the round as the projectile gains velocity," said Reiter. "The mesh is exceptionally strong for its size and weight, in what can only be described as being like a spider’s web. Hence the name we have been calling them, web ammunition, or web rounds if you like."

  Taylor looked at the ammunition in amazement and then to Acosta.

  "Your idea really did work."

  "See for yourself, Colonel," he replied.

  Taylor drew back the breech on the rifle and loaded a single round manually without need of a magazine. He turned and looked up at the drones that were spaced out five metres apart. He was dubious it could work, but he had faith in Reiter. He took aim and squeezed the trigger. It sounded like a half-powered round due to the low velocity. He watched in amazement as the web opened up, engulfed the first drone, and continued on to catch one behind it and then plummet to the ground.

  "Well, I'll be damned."

  He put the rifle down and carried on over to see the results. The two drones were completely wrapped in the web and lifeless. One was smashed and in multiple pieces.

  "So this will destroy them outright?"

  "It would depend on the strength of the drone in question and the height at which it is struck. The web rounds mean the drone cannot use any stabilisation to recover itself and does land hard. With any luck, the impact will be enough to destroy the subject. The worst case is that it remains incapacitated on the ground, and therefore an easy target for you to finish off."

  "It's amazing. Amazing in its simplicity."

  "I can take credit for the application of the idea, but not the concept itself. That belongs to Private Acosta here, who is far smarter than it would first appear."

  "We need these rounds ASAP. How quickly can you get them into production?"

  "If you are happy with them as is, I can get maybe a small test batch done by tomorrow, maybe one or two hundred. Getting them into mass production may take a few weeks at least."

  "Then do it. These web rounds will save a lot of lives. Make as many as you can, and get them to my Regiment immediately."

  Reiter nodded in agreement and began packing away the gear to go about his work. Just as Taylor turned back to Acosta to congratulate him, his comms channel opened. Dupont was on the line.

  "Colonel, report to me immediately,"

  This doesn't sound good.

  When Taylor got to the General's war room, he found it packed with other officers standing around a projection of Europe and all known positions of forces, both friendly and enemy.

  "Colonel, your little video stunt has caused quite a stir. And while I hear rumours of whole regiments heading our way to join us, it has stirred up trouble on the frontline. Your message to the World has brought your United States ever closer to joining this war, and that has clearly led the UEN to respond. They have launched a new offensive, a new push, all the way from east of here down to the Mediterranean. It is clear they intend to end this while other nations still contemplate which side of the fence to leap."

  "How bad is it?"

  "Bad. They have broken through our lines at three points so far, and I don't have to tell you how far our forces are stretched. The war is being fought in every country that’s joined the Alliance. We are losing ground at every turn. I know you are recently returned from one mission, but I am afraid I have to send you on another."

  "That's what I'm here for."

  "Good. I know you have gained some strength recently, and you'll need it. I am sending you to Arras in the north. It is vital our flanks are defended."

  Taylor studied the map.

  "Arras, that's what, a hundred and fifty klicks from here?" he asked, sounding concerned.

  Dupont sighed as he nodded.

  "They are almost at the city."

  Taylor shook his head.

  "What is it, Colonel?"

  "Why France? It started here, and it seems no matter where we go and what we do, I always end up back here."

  "Yes, I am sorry to say my fair country has become the epicentre of the struggle for the World’s freedom."

  "When do you want us to leave?"

  "Now, time is everything."

  Taylor knew what he had to do. He casually saluted, walked out the room, and tapped his comms unit. "Inter-Allied, form up and prepare to move out."

  By the time he had gathered his own equipment and got back to the hangar that had become their home, the entire Regiment was formed up with Jones at their forefront. The Rangers’ ship was set in the background, and a line of copters in front. Taylor passed Rains. He was airbrushing an American flag onto the side of a well-used copter in French markings.

  "See, no matter what, you always find another girl."

  "Yeah, thanks," he replied sarcastically.

  Taylor stopped before the troops and could see he now commanded over three hundred.

  Enough to raise all kinds of hell, he thought.

  "Listen up! The UEN is making advances west and covering some serious ground. I have heard, just as all you have, that elements within the US military are heading this way to help us out. That may be true. It may be bullshit. All we know for certain is that to the east the enemy is gaining ground, and General Dupont is deploying us to the northeast to stop them. We are but a few hundred in a war of millions, but let us never forget we have always punched above our weight!"

  A cheer rang out.

  "In the past, we have fought against Mechs; a faceless and fearsome enemy which none of you would hesitate to put down. Now we fight both Mechs and humans. Some of those humans may be Krys as well, but none of that matters. All you need to know is they are the enemy, and it your job to kill the sons of bitches before they kill you. We've got to win this war, for a far greater one is on the way. Let's do this right. Coordinates and map data have been sent to flight crews, officers, and NCOs. Load up, and good luck to you all!"

  Taylor joined Jones who was heading for Rains’ copter.

  "You know that idea Acosta had for ammunition to take down the aerial drones I told you about?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, amazingly they work."

  "We taking them with us?"

  He shook his head.

  "Had we been able to wait a day, maybe, but time is not on our side."

  "Then I guess we just hope not to meet them."

  As he said it, Taylor already knew they would, but fretting over it did no one any good now. Five minutes later, they were lifting off and heading for their new destination. It would be a short journey. After twenty minutes, they felt the copter rock and Rains’ voice.

  "Incoming fire!"

  "I thought they hadn't reached the city yet?" asked Jones.

  "That's what
I was told!" replied Taylor.

  He rushed forward to the cockpit. Missiles were zipping in and out of the craft as they were carried away and ignited by the defence systems of the Rangers’ advanced vessel.

  "That's a hell of thing!"

  "But it can't last, Eddie."

  He opened a channel.

  "We can't stick this out. Everyone out now, jump, jump, jump!"

  Jones ripped open the door and was out before he could even pass on new orders to Rains.

  "Put down somewhere safe a few klicks west and look after yourselves!"

  Taylor rushed to the door as the last two aboard jumped, and he followed suit. As he hit the open air, he saw a terrifying sight. A swarm of drones were coming for them.

  "Oh, shit, no!"

  He lifted his shield as he continued to descend, raising his rifle using the targeter on his helmet. A shot bounced from the shield as he did so, and he returned fire with a burst at the nearest target. The last shot he fired clipped the edge of one of the rotors and sent the drone barrelling out of control. He watched it smashed over a shield of one of the troops below him.

  As he fired at another target, the swarm passed through them, and he knew they were in trouble. There was nothing the copters or larger vessels could do. As one passed close to Taylor, he swung his rifle out and smashed it hard so that it burst into a dozen pieces. He felt an impact on the backplate of his armour. One of the drones strafed him. Another shot hit one of the thrusters on his legs, and he started to plummet to the ground.

  Taylor looked down. He was approaching the roof of a three-storey building at a speed he probably couldn't survive. Just when he thought he was done for, he felt an impact; Jones had got a hold of his side. It slowed their descent a little, but it wasn't enough.

  "Oh shit!" was all Taylor had time to scream.

  The two of them struck the rooftop and burst through it with little resistance, striking the floor below, through that and the next one down again. They then hit water with a thunderous splash. Taylor just about felt his back knock into the bed of water before coming to the surface and gasping for air. He looked around and saw they had landed in a swimming baths.

  "Jones!"

  The Captain surfaced a few metres from him and looked around, surprised as he was. Taylor began laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, and Jones could not help but join in, both realising how lucky they were to be alive.

  "What are the odds?" asked Taylor.

  "Luck just seems to follow you, you crazy bastard!"

  They were clambering out of the pool when Silva rushed in through a side door with Acosta close beside him. They looked up at the huge hole in the ceiling and then at the pool. They were speechless.

  "What, never seen a wet marine?" Taylor laughed.

  Silva at least managed a smile as they rushed out onto the street and found a few dozen of their unit dug in.

  "What's our situation?"

  As Taylor said it, a column of drones flew into the street. Everyone in sight opened fire. Their targets were at least easier to track when they had little room to manoeuvre in the narrow gaps between buildings.

  "Fuckers," muttered Taylor. He raised his rifle and fired a burst into one of the drones until it crashed through a window of a nearby building. As the rest carried on taking the targets down, he turned to Silva.

  "We're scattered across town," replied Silva.

  "Any sign of the local forces?"

  "There's fighting to the east, certainly. I'd say they're cut off, or they'd be running this way right about now."

  "All units advance east, sweep and clear!" he called down the comm.

  Taylor led the way and took a bend to a quiet street that seemed untouched by the fighting. He crossed on over to a narrow alley which led on to the parallel street. There he found a dozen French soldiers retreating towards them. They initially raised their weapons to fire but recognised them as friendly. Taylor grabbed one who had Corporal’s stripes.

  "What's the situation up there?"

  "Lost," the man replied faintly.

  Taylor could see the hopeless expression in his eyes. They were covered in dirt, and he had blood on him that clearly wasn't his.

  "You still got people fighting out there?"

  The Corporal nodded. Taylor wiped away grime on his uniform and saw a name tag that read Roux.

  "Then what are you doing running this way, Corporal Roux? Your comrades need you."

  "We can't stop them. We can't fight them. It's over."

  "It's not over. You know why?"

  The man shook his head.

  "Because I am Colonel Mitch Taylor of the Immortals, and I say it ain't over, you got me?"

  The Corporal’s eyes flared up a little on hearing the name. He saw the nametag and rank on Taylor, which confirmed it.

  "You're here? Here to fight with us?" he asked, perking up.

  "That's right. I always was, and I always will be. Now you got some boys who need some help out there, and we're gonna give it to them together, aren't we?"

  He turned back to the others with him. "You heard him. We've got the Immortals with us. Nothing can stop us now."

  "Then lead on!" Taylor ordered.

  He carried on at the front with the Corporal, whose platoon was now mixed with the ragtag group of Inter-Allied Taylor had landed with. It was far from the 'cavalry coming to the rescue' scenario he had been expecting, but the only move was to continue onwards. The gunfire was getting louder, and he knew they were in the right place. Explosions ignited as big guns pounded the area. He wondered where the air support was. As he did, he heard an explosion above and saw a fighter burst into flames; a surface-to-air device knocked it out of the sky.

  Ground warfare. It has come down to this once again.

  Taylor never liked his time in space, but he at least appreciated the fact that any fighting they did up there was kept away from Earth soil. He longed for that once again. They passed across another street and heard a loud voice.

  "Hold it right there!"

  They couldn't tell where it had come from and immediately went to ground.

  "Identify yourselves!"

  "Colonel Taylor, Inter-Allied!"

  "Yeah right, who are you really?"

  Taylor lowered his weapon and got up."

  "What are you doing?" Silva shouted.

  He ignored the Sergeant Major and strode forward as if without a concern in the world.

  "I am Colonel Taylor, and I am here to save your asses!" he responded defiantly.

  Suddenly a head popped up from between the debris of a building, and two soldiers stepped out.

  "No, can't be."

  "What, you thought we were just a myth?"

  Before they could answer him a shell landed on the building above.

  "Cover!"

  They went to ground as chunks of concrete landed all around. He got up and spat out the concrete dust he had become so familiar with in urban combat.

  "Yes, it's me. I'm here. Now what can we do to help?"

  He could not see rank on either of the French soldiers, and they looked utterly baffled to be asked such a thing by an officer.

  "We are rear guard to Captain Anders. She's dug in two blocks ahead. They're giving us hell, Sir. I don't know how long we can hold."

  "Don't you worry; you stay put, and if you see any more of our unit, you send them my way, okay? We got scattered on the drop."

  "Yes, Sir."

  They carried on past the two soldiers who still looked just as baffled as when they first arrived.

  "Think it's wise throwing your name about so much?" asked Jones.

  "Why?"

  "You're a big target."

  "That ain't gonna change, and I’m not hiding from any bastard who wants to kill me."

  Jones respected that and did not push the matter. They came through a clearing and found a line of buildings that had been gutted by artillery and were now being used for cover by a line of troops. T
hey were clearly the frontline.

  "Who's in charge here?" Taylor shouted.

  A female officer beckoned for him to cross the road and join him.

  "Captain Anders, I presume?"

  "Yes, about time you got here. We need support, and we needed it hours ago. How many are you?"

  She appeared to have no regard for his rank, and that tickled him a little.

  "About three hundred."

  "Three hundred? Christ, we need thousands not hundreds. We need an army!"

  "Yeah, well, you got me. What's your situation?"

  "Situation sucks. North is holding at the old defences and should do for some time, but the centre here is under increasing pressure, and half a klick to the south isn't going to hold for much longer."

  "What are you facing?"

  "Armour, infantry, Mechs. About the only thing we are safe from is the air because anything that comes across the city gets blown out the sky from one side or the other."

  "And combat drones?"

  "Yes, those too. We were hit by a wave just twenty minutes ago, but they peeled off west."

  "That was our welcoming party."

  "Then I am sorry, but we could do little to stop them."

  "We're working on that."

  "Well, I hope you work faster, or neither of us may live long enough to see the results."

  They heard the noise of steps and turned to see dozens of Taylor's troops pour into the street.

  Thank Christ for that, he thought.

  "We'll head a little south and bolster the defences there. I don't know if we're getting much more support if any, Captain, but we have to hold."

  "Those are just words, Colonel. We'll give everything we can to hold here, but if it cannot be done, it cannot be done."

  "Don't ever say that, Captain!" he shouted for all to hear. "When a fighter says something cannot be done, they only set themselves up to fail. It can be done, and will be done, you got that?"

  She looked sheepish but responded loudly, "Yes, Sir!"

  Taylor carried on running down the line of crippled buildings. Medics carried the wounded out between the rubble as they passed. It was all too familiar for Taylor. The scene along the lines was the same until they reached the point at which Anders had said was hit the worst. They passed a crater where the bodies of six soldiers lay, and nobody had been able to move as they dealt with the wounded. An ambulance lay crashed and burned in the side of a nearby building, and mechanical mules carried out some of the wounded.